


You can't outrun a ghost

by relenafanel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky is a hot dog vendor, Comedy, Innuendo, M/M, Steve is a jogger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1678328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relenafanel/pseuds/relenafanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wasn’t sure when the hot dog vendor had first appeared on his morning run.  What he did know was that if it had always been there, he would noticed the scent and changed routes as an evasive measure.  Maybe it had shown up when he had to deviate his normal routine because of construction, or maybe this was the first time he noticed it because this was the first time it was there to be noticed.  Steve wasn’t an oblivious guy, to the point of being hyper aware of his surroundings, and so chances were that it was the latter.</p><p>He knew that.</p><p>He also knew that if the hot dog cart had been there before, he certainly would have noticed the familiar profile of the vendor.  Combining that with the scent of grilled meat and bread, it was enough to throw Steve off balance as he ran across the street, feeling like, for the first time in ages, he was actively running away from something that couldn't evanesce like his memories.</p><p>~<br/>Also known as <i><b>The Wiener Soldier</b></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	You can't outrun a ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyblahblah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyblahblah/gifts).



> This is dedicated to [ladyblahblah](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyblahblah/pseuds/ladyblahblah) (who helped come up with most of the innuendos due to our mutual flail-fests about stucky) and [bleep0bleep](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bleep0bleep/pseuds/bleep0bleep) (who made us the [manip you can see here](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/post/85194066025/relenafanel-hungrylikethewolfie-help-this))

Steve wasn’t sure when the hot dog vendor had first appeared on his morning run.  What he did know was that if it had always been there, he would noticed the scent and changed routes as an evasive measure.  Maybe it had shown up when he had to deviate his normal routine because of construction, or maybe this was the first time he noticed it because this was the first time it was there to be noticed.  Steve wasn’t an oblivious guy, to the point of being hyper aware of his surroundings, and so chances were that it was the latter.

He knew that.

He also knew that if the hot dog cart had been there before, he certainly would have noticed the familiar profile of the vendor.  Combining that with the scent of grilled meat and bread, it was enough to throw Steve off balance as he ran across the street, feeling like, for the first time in ages, he was actively running away from something that couldn't evanesce like his memories.  
  
.x.

New York City was fast paced, but not quite so fast that it could keep up with Steve Rogers at a dead run.  Every time he went by the corner with the hot dog vendor, he felt the weight of eyes on his back.  It wasn’t a comfortable sensation, to know he was being watched, and to wonder who exactly it was doing the watching.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation, either.

Maybe that was why it made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

.x.

"Hey," a voice called out at him as Steve slowed down his speed to cater to the two women pushing strollers in front of him.  Steve wasn’t actually sure that the person was addressing him, but it was just a guess based on a week of spotting the attention the vendor paid him when Steve came into view. He knew that eventually he’d have to look over and face the man, but there were certain things Steve would rather not look directly at.  His willingness to see dead people on a New York corner was one of them.  He wondered if the man would still look like a ghost, and in a way he was terrified to get confirmation either way. "Do you wanna taste my wiener…s?" the hot dog vendor called out, and the playful tone was painfully familiar.

The ladies looked up and scowled towards the hot dog cart.  "Ew," one of them sneered. 

"Not you," the guy said, pointing a bun towards Steve.  "You." 

"No thanks," Steve answered, frowning slightly. He wondered if that was some kind of sales technique, and if it usually worked.  It felt like street harassment, and Steve was already squinting  against the sun to stare at the guy, because he never stood for being harassed on the street.

It was almost like the vendor knew that, from the way he was grinning at Steve over the line of the hot dog bun between them.

He never thought that he’d actually see the one thing it was impossible for him to see in the middle of New York City in 2014.

Bucky.  
  
.x.

It’s said that you can’t run from your ghosts, but Steve had been doing his best since he woke up in a world that was no more than an echo of familiarity.

.x.

" _NICE WARM BUNS_ ," the guy crooned the next time Steve jogged by, and this time Steve was ready for it, watching for the way Bucky came to attention once he was in sight.  He noticed Steve far before most people noticed things in their periphery, and Steve wondered if it had anything to do with Bucky’s sniper training.  He immediately dismissed the thought, because it was one thing to grab on to familiar facial features and compare them to his best friend, and an entirely different thing to actually believe it was his best friend.   The day was overcast this time, and Steve could clearly see the vendor’s face when he looked over.  He looked so much like Bucky that it hurt, especially the way his lips turned into a salacious smirk.  How many times had he seen that mouth in exactly the same expression?  He couldn’t even count.  If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d swear it was Bucky saying those words, holding up a hot dog bun at him.

He did know better.

He did.

Steve turned his head and continued across the street.

"I only have the thick, plump kind, so it’s a tight fit!" the guy called out behind him, sounding incredibly amused.

Steve wasn’t even sure that was meant to be an innuendo.  Did he need to be concerned that everything from the hot dog vendor’s mouth sounded sexualized?  Did he need to consider what it meant to his memory of Bucky that hearing about warm buns and tight fits from someone who could be Bucky’s clone sent a wave of heat through him that was more potent than any explosion or the humid air and baking sidewalks of the city streets?

.x.

"WHAT DO YOU LIKE ON YOUR WIENER, SIR?" was the next experience Steve had with the hot dog vendor. 

The thing was… Steve didn’t really enjoy the taste of hot dogs.  If this was a ploy designed to get his attention, to be  _tempting_ , it was certainly not well-researched.  The fact that he’d eaten worse than hot dogs in his life wasn’t exactly the best lure, and there were a lot of convenient food options that he did enjoy the taste of.  People kept trying to feed hot dogs to him like it was this adventurous new food group, when Steve had been vomiting them up at Coney Island before the Second World War.

So, hotdogs had been soured for Steve, and he thought that maybe the fact that all his memories of them had Bucky as the focal point might be the reason why the hot dog vendor reminded him of his best friend.  They were inexplicably linked in Steve’s mind. That was all.

He supposed it was better to see Bucky in the hot dog vendor than it was to see him falling every time he took the subway. 

It was definitely better than really stopping to consider what he would like on his wiener.

  
.x.

(It actually made a strange, perverse kind of sense that Bucky Barnes sold hot dogs.  Bucky could sell water to a drowning man and had convinced a much younger Steve to eat the hot dogs at Coney Island, despite the fact that the sun was overly hot and the rides made him dizzy and he knew eating was a bad idea. Bucky had leaned back against the wall they were sitting against and watched the girls walking by, whispering observations to Steve that were so much like the things Steve was hearing from his look-alike now, that it only helped serve the illusion)

(Not that this man was Bucky Barnes or that Steve Rogers would ever consume a hot dog again, no matter what Bucky said to convince him)

(Bucky, the real Bucky, knew that)

.x. 

"I’ll give you a taste.  On the house," Bucky winked at him, giving him a slow, careful smile that was entirely flirtation and every bit the way Bucky used to look at someone he was seducing.  It was jarring to the extreme to see someone with his face and his mannerisms, directing their attention towards Steve.  

Steve couldn’t help but respond to it.

"I’m not…" Steve trailed off apologetically, relaxing his stance in front of the don’t walk sign.  "I don’t really care for hot dogs," he finally settled on with a wince, grinning apologetically and with a shrug.  "Your sale tactics are lost on me." 

The guy looked at him and shrugged back, taking a vicious bite out of the hotdog in his hand.  He chewed slowly and then turned to take a bottle off his cart.  He held Steve’s eyes as he squeezed a thick line of mayo over the length of the dog.  ”Needed a little lubrication to smooth the way,” he said, not dropping Steve’s eye.  ”Are you sure about that?” he asked as Steve’s gaze got caught, entranced, by the dab of mayo on the guy’s top lip. 

"I’m pretty confident," Steve answered, resuming his jog. 

.x. 

It was on the second week that Steve realized he automatically took his earbuds out of his ears as he approached the corner with the hot dog vendor.  He’d probably be able to avoid what the guy was saying if he just drowned him out with music, but Steve was self-aware enough to know that every encounter he had with this guy who looked so much like Bucky, but couldn’t be, made him smile for a good hour after he finished his jog. 

Steve rarely smiled without meaning to.  Some days it felt like he hadn’t since 1945.

"It’s interesting," not!Bucky said as Steve jogged in place at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change.  "Usually I like those slim traditional dogs, the normal sized ones? But lately I’ve been craving something a little more substantial.  Something bigger that will just fill me up the first time.  Do you know what I’m talking about?" 

"Yeah," Steve answered automatically, his voice going a little breathy at the end as he took in the line of Bucky’s hands. 

No, not Bucky, he had to remind himself. 

Bucky’s eyes opened in a startled expression of surprise just as the walk signal lit up and Steve started across the street. 

.x. 

"If you’re worried about spills, I could wrap it up for ya," the guy said, the next time Steve was standing at the light in front of him.  It made Steve wonder why it was that he kept getting caught at the crosswalk.

Maybe the hot dog vendor could control the walk signal.  Maybe Tony Stark was playing a prank on him. 

Maybe, Steve realized the next morning, he was deliberately pacing himself. ”I’m serious about the wrapper,” Bucky said, his voice smooth and silken as he leaned against the cart, tilting his pelvis towards Steve.  ”We have these special sleeves that go over the dogs. Durable, but thin, so you wouldn’t even know it was there.  You can still feel the warmth of the dog, but without the mess.  It’s optional, though,” he continued, voice becoming strained with laughter for a moment before it evened out.  ”Some people like it a bit messy.” 

Steve found the corner of his mouth quirking up in a grin. 

"Ah," the guy smirked at him.  "I thought you might like that." 

"Still don’t care for hot dogs," Steve answered, giving the vendor a jaunty wave as he crossed the street. 

.x.

"Would you something steamy hot, juicy, and of German origin in you?" the guy asked as Steve came to an abrupt stop in front of the cart, cut off by a bicycle. 

"You’re not German," Steve pointed out automatically.

"I’m not… wow, I’m having trouble processing that.. no, I’m not.  You have a filthy mind!" 

Steve blinked in confusion.  What?  ”I have a filthy mind?” he sputtered.

Bucky winked.

Steve felt his stomach swoop out from under him.

.x.

"There’s never been a hot dog I didn’t like," Bucky said, leaning back against his cart as he shoved the hot dog in his hand into his mouth.  It was probably a testament to how carefully Steve was watching him, always watched him, that he noticed the way Bucky’s mouth turned down about half a minute later, just as Steve was about to take off again. His chin jutted out seconds before he hit his chest and doubled over.

“Are you choking?” Steve asked as Bucky’s face went white and then rapidly flushed to a deep red colour. 

Bucky stared up at him, his eyes telling Steve all he needed to know.  Steve knew how to move fast, he was scientifically enhanced to deliver surgical strikes.  The Heimlich was a piece of cake compared to some of the field triage he’d had to perform a few times.

And, well.  Once, Bucky had laughed when Steve had thrown up those hot dogs while visiting Coney Island, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh now as Bucky spit out the piece he’d been choking on, the effect ruined.  He relaxed against in Steve’s arms, still coughing.  

"You could have just asked me out, you know," Steve said, rubbing circles on Bucky’s back. 

"You said you don’t like hotdogs," Bucky’s face was red, but he was quickly regaining his footing.

"As a food option," Steve answered.

"See, that’s where we’re going to have fundamental differences, Steve," Bucky answered, straightening his back.

"I didn’t…" tell you my name, Steve started and then paused, taking in the guy in front of him.  He’d been calling him Bucky in his head for so long that he stopped really looking at the similarities between them.

Bucky patted his cheek in a condescending manner.  ”Yeah, no one wants you to projectile vomit less than me.  We’ll have to work on that gag reflex,” he said, placing a hot dog in Steve’s hand.

“What?” he said, completely lost as he stared at Bucky. “I’m not going to eat this.”

“There are other ways,” Bucky shrugged, a slow smile spreading across his face.  “Christ, I missed you.”

**Author's Note:**

> idek. Innuendo-laden character-study romantic comedy, it's my forte. 
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://relenafanel.tumblr.com/). I'm currently doing a 30 Days of Steve/Bucky challenge where I write a drabble a day.


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